Author’s Note: After I wrote “The Flames of Elysium” short story, I was haunted by it (feel free to read the original version to see how things change). I wasn’t satisfied at all with the short story and wanted to delve deeper into it. So I started think about it as a novel. Luckily, I had already been creating a sci-fi universe and could incorporate this story into the overall universe. Now, I am not a big fan when it comes to prologues in a story. But, for some reason, I felt it would be appropriate for creating the setting and leading into the story itself. Whether or not it is kept when everything is said and done is an entirely different matter.
If I were to be honest. I find it easier to write fantasy than I do sci-fi. So a lot of things in this prologue are apt to change whenever I finish this rough draft which was started seven years ago.
Hope you enjoy it and constructive criticism is always welcome.
Prologue
Friday – 6:32 AM Federation Standard Time(FST) – October 29, 2252
Bored.
Lieutenant Brand was bored as he stared at the holographic readout display at his terminal, trying to suppress a yawn. It was the start of his first morning shift after his recent transfer and here he was on the bridge of the Galactic Federation of United Planets’ newest and most advanced cruiser. But was he participating in the recent war being fought against the Dubellien race?
No.
Instead the SS Richard Hale, named after the founder of the GFP, no one added the U unless something bad had happened, was stuck here in the Cren Solar system keeping watch on Cren Prime. Cren Prime was one of three habitable planets in the same orbit around a main sequence star in a solar system with four other planets. The Cren System was only the second such system to boast three habitable planets and was discovered by a scientist named James Cren who named everything after himself.
Unfortunately, said the report that Brand had read as he was being transferred to his new berth, shortly after the discovery of this new system by Dr. Cren, it resulted in both the egotistical doctor and his crew being killed by the indigenous species. A nightmarish race that was a combination of arachnids and snakes that then attempted to conquer the universe shortly after first contact was made.
It had been a long and costly war for the GFP before it had finally driven the Cren back to their original homeworld of Cren Prime. However, the leadership deemed it too costly to assault Cren Prime and decided that a fleet would be sent to confine the Cren on their homeworld. Meanwhile, Cren II and III would be settled by volunteers. A risky and dangerous venture, considering that the threat of the Crenlings still loomed, but it was worth the risk for one simple reason; Crenillium.
Crenillium, discovered by Dr. Cren shortly before his demise, was a bio-organic mineral that was a powerful and efficient source of energy when used. It far outpaced any other source of power in the known universe with the exception of Luthlinnium. Unfortunately for the GFP, Crenillium was only found in the Cren system.
And so the SS Richard Hale, along with 11 other warships, were in orbit of Cren Prime and constantly monitoring it. Normally, the Cren Battle fleet would consist of 50 ships, but the majority of them had been called away to help in the war against the Dubellians.
“I still can’t believe how boring this assignment is,” Lt Brand thought to himself. He remembered overhearing a conversation while at the Mess Hall in which Lt Junior Grade Chopin boasted to an ensign that she had been playing Star Trekking Conquest, a collectible card game, while on duty. Curious as to whether or not this was true, Brand quickly searched for the game and pulled it up. He considered logging into his own account, while he unconsciously straightened his black uniform with blue stripes on his shoulders, an indication that he was part of the science division, when he noticed an odd reading from the sensors.
“Admiral,” Brand said as he turned around to look at the Commanding Officer of the Hale.
Fleet Admiral Jennifer Singh, wearing a black uniform with gold stripes at the shoulder and five gold stars depicting her rank, was the only person on the bridge who was sitting in a chair. Only the ship’s CO was allowed to sit as every other station on the bridge, and the rest of the ship, required that personnel stand while on duty though, at the push of a button, chairs could rise from the floor for medical reasons or during combat situations. Singh, whose chair was on a raised dais in the center of the bridge, so that the Admiral could be clearly seen by everyone, turned in her chair to Brand with her left eyebrow raised in question.
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“Admiral, sensors have detected a very small seismic shift of .1 on the Richter scale,” Brand reported. Before he could say anything further, there was a loud snort across the other side of the bridge which caused Brand to feel annoyed at the sudden dismissal of what he was going to report.
“Compose yourself,” Admiral Singh snapped as she swivelled her chair in the direction the snort had come from, giving a young ensign a stern glance, “I’m sure Lieutenant Brand would not have brought this to my attention if there wasn’t more to his report.”
The Admiral turned back to Brand and said, “Continue Lt, what makes this small seismic event so important?”
Brand replied, “The shift didn’t happen in just one area Admiral. It occurred simultaneously on land masses all over the planet.”
At this, the Admiral slowly stood out of her chair and walked over to his station and asked, “Has this happened before?”
“I’m not sure,” Brand answered as he began to input search parameters. “It only lasted for 1.5 seconds. The earthquake is so low on the richter scale that our sensors didn’t bother to alert us, even though it was a global-wide phenomenon. This sort of event is not in the parameters since it has never happened before.”
Brand’s terminal beeped as the computer indicated that it had finished its search and provided its findings. Alarmed, Brand looked at the Admiral, “This has happened intermittently over the past five years!”
“Admiral,” Lieutenant Commander Ling, one of the heads of the Science Division said, “This is not a natural occurrence.”
“Agreed,” the Admiral stated. “The question is, how has this not been noticed until now?”
“No alarm was set up considering that no such event has been recorded or considered as the parameters were set for our sensor systems,” Ling replied.
“Admiral,” Brand exclaimed as his station started flashing red. “It’s happening again! I took the liberty of adding in new parameters for the sensor system to warn me when it would repeat.”
“Well done Lt,” Admiral Singh said as she turned back to him. “I’ll be adding a commendation to your file.”
“Sir,” Brand went on, oblivious to what the Admiral had just said. “The seismic activity hasn’t stopped and is now getting stronger.”
“Admiral,” the Communications Officer yelled. “Our communications are being jammed!”
“Red Alert,” Admiral Singh said as she turned to the main screen at the front of the bridge,” bring up the planet on screen. Comms, get in touch with the fleet via signal lights. Inform them that something is happening on Cren Prime and to go to Red Alert.”
From Brand’s position on the bridge, he was able to shift his stance a little so that he could see the Admiral and the main screen while still focusing on his station. On it, the image of Cren Prime appeared as the lights on the bridge turned red and started blinking at regular intervals. The planet was a ball of brown, surrounded by a network of automated defensive platforms, that once had been lush and green. But ever since the Cren had been forced back to their planet of origin, the planet had slowly been dying. Scientists had hypothesized that the Cren were devouring the planet to keep themselves alive and assumed the population would eventually starve itself out.
“Admiral,” the Comms officer reported, “the fleet has acknowledged and have gone to Red Alert.”
“Ma’am,” a brown-haired man, whose uniform bore red stripes indicating that he was part of the Tactical Division, chimed in. “Railguns are manned and powered up, laser arrays powered, shields are at maximum, torpedoes loaded, Marines are at combat readiness, and all fighter crafts are ready to deploy.”
“Acknowledged,” Admiral Singh responded who was still watching the planet on the screen. “Computer, silence alarms.”
The Red Alert klaxon immediately ceased as everyone on the bridge continued to man their stations. Brand noticed that a low murmuring of voices droned on as each station was communicating, coordinating, and providing the Admiral with up-to-date reports on her terminals.
Suddenly, cracks in the planet’s crust became visible.
The silence on the bridge was deafening as everyone turned to the screen and watched as the cracks grew larger and wider.
“Admiral,” Lt Brand said in a calm voice, though his eyes widened in shock as he looked at the information the sensors were feeding him. “Cren ships detected on the planet directly inside the crack.”
“How many ships,” Admiral Singh asked.”
“Dozens sir, and more emerging from beneath the planet’s crust from the newly opened fissure.”
“Comms,” the Captain immediately snapped.
“Yes Ma’am.”
“Launch three communication buoys. One to GFP Headquarters informing them that the Cren have launched an invasion and to ready the nearest fleet for a counteroffensive. Then a buoy to Cren II and III informing them that the Cren have returned and to prepare themselves for a fight.”
“Automated defense platforms have opened fire on the lead Cren ships,” reported Tactical.
“Communications are still being jammed,” said comms and then a minute later added, “Buoys launched.”
On the main screen, Brand and the rest of the crew watched; transfixed by the sight of ships emerging, like bees from a damaged hive, from the planet’s crust and greeted with a continuous bombardment from the defense platforms orbiting the planet. The lead Cren vessels, almost looking like flattened brown bugs, appeared to be designed to bear the brunt of the firepower being directed at them. An assumption confirmed as they took up positions in front of the swarm and started up towards space. The brown vessels had a large, ovoid shape with a chitinous-looking hull and, following in the large ships’ wake, was a stream of smaller vessels that were more round and bulbous in their design.
The lead Cren ships were slowly making their way to space, though taking significant damage from the defense platforms. One of the large, ovoid ships broke apart and the smaller ships behind it were suddenly exposed to a withering hail of destructive red laser beams until a new blockade buster ship took up position and started absorbing the firepower.
Above the plant, the SS Richard Hale stayed in position. Like a predatory bird ready to strike, it’s black hull given a slight, red tinge from the red lighting emanating from the nacelles. Large in size, the ship bristled with an assortment of defensive turrets, with six, large railguns on each of the swept back wings. The wings also served as hangars for the two fighter divisions ready to deploy at a moment’s notice.
“Tactical,” Admiral Singh said in a calm and businesslike voice. “Deploy all fighters, signal the fleet to do the same, and to focus fire on the lead Cren ships.”
“Acknowledged,” was the curt reply.
With the commands relayed via light signals, the small GFP fleet opened fire on the Cren Blockade-running ships , hoping to allow the planetary defenses the ability to fire upon the transport ships. And while the fleet was successful in causing significant damage to the swarm on one side of the planet, They knew it was only a matter of time before the planetary defenses would be breached and the Cren would be flying in open space.
Lt Brand’s eyes widened slowly as he looked at his scans and reported, “Admiral, additional Cren ships are showing up on sensors from the other side of the planet.”
“On screen,” stated the Admiral.
The image on the monitor changed from the depleted Cren fleet still trying to break through the defense platforms and escape the planet’s gravity to a pulled-out view of the entire planet which showed hundreds of moving objects coming from around the other side. It was as if Cren Prime was like a beehive that suddenly broke open with all of its inhabitants spewing forth to escape the destruction.
“Orders to the fleet,” Admiral Singh said. “Engage enemy at will to inflict maximum damage and then withdraw to the military outpost at the Asmund System for reinforcements and further orders.”
The standing orders from Federation Headquarters was to hold the system at all costs, but that order did not account for the recently depleted fleet strength. Now, completely outmanned and outgunned, Admiral Singh would try to delay the Cren Swarm for as long as possible to buy time for the colonists to prepare their own defenses for the inevitable attack. For once the fleet left the system, the Cren would prioritize taking back those planets before moving out into the known galaxy to swallow everything up.
Soon the GFP fleet was engaged with the might of the Cren Swarm. Hundreds of Stingers emerged from the bulbous ships, which had to be transport ships. The Cren species were a nightmarish, unholy amalgamation of snakes and arachnids. The Stingers had a long, snake-like body six feet in length with six spindly legs; four from the center and two in the front by the snakelike head with a dozen eyes. The tail then ended with a two-foot long stinger from which could be shot a chitinous spike and it flew through space on gossamer wings that were beautiful in the variety of colors shown when sunlight bounced off of them. The four central legs allowed Stingers to grab onto ships while the front legs, which were razor sharp, were designed to open up a ship’s hull. And so, hundreds of Stingers engaged the fleet’s fighters, the pilots doing their best to avoid the spikes and the creatures trying to latch onto their ships. During the first hour of combat, two Destroyers were quickly overwhelmed as the Cren Swarm was determined to wipe out the GFP fleet. But the fight continued on for another two hours and several more ships were destroyed, creating small, miniature suns for a few brief seconds.
Suddenly, the Cren’s remaining blockade runners separated into smaller versions so that they were nothing more than a ship with an overly large engine that ended in a pointed beak. Once separated, the engines flared up and the new type of ships came speeding towards the SS Richard Hale. The Hale’s railguns, laser array, and defensive turrets immediately focused on the new threat but several of the mini-blockade runners rammed into the ship and stayed there.
“Breaches on decks 3, 5, 9, and the Command Deck” the Tactical Officer reported. “Enemy units are now on the ship, coming through the breachers that opened up once they penetrated our hull.”
“Order the marines to engage,” Admiral Singh ordered. “Have engineering teams ready to remove those ships from our hull once the marines clear the areas. We can’t afford to leave this system with any Cren on board”
“Comms.”
“Yes Admiral?”
“Orders to the fleet. Recall as many fighters as we can, initiate self-destruct on those we can’t, and withdraw from the Cren System if they have not been boarded or have eliminated all internal Cren threats.”
“Aye Sir.”
“Helm, begin evasive maneuvers and get as much space between us and any Cren ships as possible. Tactical, defensive fire at this point. Concentrate on any targets heading for us or in our general vicinity.”
Despite its large size, the SS Richard Hale’s engines were more than capable of outrunning the large Cren ships, while the GFP fighters took out any Stingers that got too close before returning to the hangar. Lt Brand watched it all unfold on the main screen and from the readout at his station. The acrid smell of smoke was in the air from some of the stations that had blown up in a shower of sparks. The ship had taken damage to its communications array, life support, breaches in the hull, and half the railguns were out of commission.
“Admiral,” the Tactical Officer said. “Report coming in that a group of Cren have broken through the marines defending the Command Deck and making their way to the bridge,”
No sooner did he say this then the sound of a wet explosion came from outside the door leading to the Bridge. Immediately Lt Brand, along with everyone else on the bridge with the exception of the helm and tactical, drew their sidearms and aimed at the door.
“Someone at GFUP,” said an ensign next to Lt Brand, pronouncing GFUP as goof up, “just done goofed up!”
A second wet explosion followed the first and the sound of sizzling metal could be heard. The door was starting to dissolve from an acidic compound until two razor sharp pincers started to assist in opening the ever-widening breach. Beyond the breach, the hisses and clicks of the other Cren could be heard.
“Open fire,” Admiral Singh ordered.
Gunfire lent its voice to the chaos of sound enveloping the bridge. The first Cren soldier made its way through the doorway, the door itself completely gone now. The soldier was arachnid in is appearance with eight legs, dozens of eyes on its round, snake head; a long tongue flicking in and out. It was four feet in height and four feet in length. After entering the bridge, it spat a stream of poison, hitting the young ensign who had snorted at Lt Brand’s initial report which seemed like a lifetime ago.
The first Cren died shortly after spitting its venom from the concentrated fire, but was soon replaced by several more Cren which started spitting venom and then pouncing at the various personnel. Within a minute, four more people were ripped open as the Cren pounced on them, slashing their victims open with their front legs and fangs.
With a hiss, the last remaining Cren launched itself towards the front of the bridge, landing on top of Lt Brand. Pain erupted in his left leg as one of the Cren’s legs impaled it upon landing. As the Cren reared back to strike with its front legs, half of its snake’s head blew up and the body fell off to the side. Admiral Singh had come up right behind it and opened fire. With a nod to him, Singh returned to her chair, tapping a button,” Medical to the bridge. Tactical, report.”
“Admiral,” came the immediate reply. “Reports say that was the last of the Cren.”
“Comms, launch two message buoys to the main capitals of Cren II and III informing them that we are withdrawing from the system. They will need to hold out for at least three days before any help can arrive.”
As Lt Brand painfully pulled himself up onto the chair he had called up, the Admiral continued issuing orders.
“Helm, maximum warp to the Asmund System once the buoys have been launched. Damage report.”
“Communications offline, multiple hull breaches, life support is down, and half of our railguns were taken out.”
“Order the engineering teams to get life support back up and then prioritize communications,” Admiral Singh added. “I’ll need to get in contact with the council as soon as possible and coordinate an offensive.”
“Buoys launched!”
“Helm, get us out of here.”
Lt Brand looked at the main screen as the image of the the Cren Swarm changed to a panorama of stars streaking past. A medical team arrived on the bridge as he started to lose consciousness from the loss of blood.
His gaze went back to Admiral Singh who stared at the monitor and grimly said, “Three days if we are lucky. There was a fleet of two hundred ships being assembled at the nearest outpost that was supposed to be sent to the Dubellian front. Given the threat the Cren pose to the entire galaxy, hopefully some sort of armistice can happen. Who knows? Maybe the Dubellians will help us destroy the Cren.”
Three days. Lt Brand thought. The colonists would need to hold out for at least three days if any were to survive.
With that last thought, Lt Brand lost consciousness.
